Will the world ever truly know what we have wrought? It will know the stone and metal and marble and asphalt–these beautiful monstrosities that we have left. Will it remember the scars we have visited upon it? Will it care for our struggles and endeavors; will it ever realize what we have sought to accomplish? It will have seen us grow and learn and adapt and change throughout time, but it will have seen us rise, and it will know our faults. It will have seen and witnessed all vice and virtue, all pleasure and pain. It will show of all the knowledge and constructs of the mind with which man sought to rule, govern, and inevitably destroy one another.
In time, will others find the remnants of our race, of our species and ask the right questions? Will they then ask what went wrong? When did it start? What were the changes that occurred that steered man to its end?
Will it be obvious, our obsession with the self? Will our sins be the clues that put our pieces back together?
Are we still sleeping? Perhaps once we dreamed and hoped and sought to brighten our future. The path now is a dark one.
When man is naught but dust and ash, and all that remains of society is questions, perhaps then can the planet heal.
A race of superior intellect will then call Earth its home. They outlasted man for they were not primative or violent and they will be a race that lives in harmony with thier environment–such that both benefit from the exchange.
We, as man, will be a lesson one day. Stories will be told of our folly and of our incapacity to love. One day, man will be the monster under the bed, the discord of the mind. One day, we will be an asterisk*…